Surviving the Night
by C.D. Call
Summary: In a town on Long Island, New York, the dead come back to life, leaving a handful of survivors to somehow find a way to get to safety. (R&R's welcome)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This story is based on the idea of Dawn of the Dead, an idea which belongs to George Romero and whomever else was directly involved with the creating of the original project. This is my first story on the site so don't bash me too harshly. Enjoy and thanks for reading. Later.**

**6:00 A.M.**  
  
The drip down from the coffee machine was the only sound that could be heard in Ron's ears. Being on only two and a half hours of sleep, he tried drinking some of that rancid concoction that his manager always bought. No Colombian coffee for this store, only the absolute bare minimum. Although some people liked theirs black, it was still unbearable to most costumers who dared to try.  
  
But Ron didn't really care about those other people right now. He had to open at six for the fourth day this week, which was four days too many as far as he was concerned. Ron was more of a night person, and usually wound up partying until the wee hours of the morning. Who was to blame him though, he was a twenty-one year old college student who lived with his parents still to avoid paying rent. Only having really cell phone and insurance to pay for, most of Ron's money went to alcohol or Chaplin's, the strip club that was only five blocks away from the Stop and Shop Express, where he worked for the past year and a half. The pay was bad, and the hours were long, about fifty to fifty-five a week sometimes. It was money though, and easy since most people just went to the big Stop and Shop, not this little shop that was located about fifty feet away in the middle of the parking lot. In his mind, the only three things that were sure in life were death, taxes and the fact that he would be bored to tears by around ten o'clock.  
  
"This fucking blows." Ron muttered to himself, as usual in the morning. He lightly slammed his head against the counter, hoping that maybe he'll hit it hard enough so that he might just wake up in bed, preferably somewhere around noon. But it was all too real unfortunately, because if this was a dream, the store wouldn't stink like rat shit. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a banging sound against the window. Ron jerked his head up and looked at the clock first on instinct. Five minutes after six...that had to be some kind of record. Looking down at the window with mild disinterest, Ron's eyes widened as he saw something that may have reinforced the fact that he could be dreaming. It looked like a middle-aged woman, but he couldn't really tell. Her hair was damp and stringy, and she only wore a white gown with some pink designs on it, resembling a hospital gown. Ron backed up a little bit when he saw her face, an unhealthy shade of pale yellow.  
  
"Go away! We're closed!" Ron shouted through the glass at this woman. The big black sign that said "OPEN" in big red letters contradicted him though, but the woman didn't seem to notice. She just kept on banging on the window next to the door, the grime from her hands sticking to the once clean panes. Ron backed up slowly, stumbling over the stack of uncut newspapers that were behind him. He shot his hands out to catch the counter on the right and a row of cigarettes on the left. This woman was like something out of a bad movie, and the only thing that Ron could think about right now was the one word which seemed impossible to comprehend in real life...zombie.

Ron watched as this woman, or zombie, or whatever it was kept banging away on the window, looking at him like he was the main course. He looked from the front door where she was to the entrance to the back door, thinking about just running as fast as he can away from this woman. But what if there was more? And what if this was just a very sick woman? Zombies aren't real, that he was sure of, at least before two minutes ago. The woman was now letting out these guttural noises and had resorted to just scratching on the window instead of pounding on it. Ron was about to make a break for the back door when he saw a car approaching the front of the store. Thoughts of this person creating a distraction for him to get away were mixed with actually wanting to warn him or her. As the blue sedan pulled up to the front of the store, Ron inched slowly forward, careful to keep a good deal of distance from him and the window. As the overweight man struggled to get out of the car, Ron started jumping up in the air, waving his arms over his head.

"Get the fuck out of here man! She's, not well!" If he had shouted that she was a zombie, the guy probably would have just laughed it off.

Hearing Ron yelling at the top of his lungs, the man looked up towards the store, just about the same time the woman had turned her attention towards the arriving customer. Within an instant, she assaulted the guy, causing him to let out a startled scream. She jumped on him at first, somehow positioning herself on the man's back as he fell forward. Ron watched in horror as her teeth ripped into the side of the man's thick neck, while her hands clawed at his chest and face. The unfortunate soul got up from the floor on what had to be instinct, as he spun around in a circle, causing specks of blood to hit the window pane and the door. Ron grabbed for the first thing he could get his hands on, thinking about going out there and giving the man some help. Seeing that he had grabbed a bag of potato chips, he thought he should go get something a little heavier, even though they were sour cream and onion. As Ron made a dash for the backroom, he stopped just before entering and looked towards the front of the store. In what seemed to be like slow motion, he watched the next events unfold, his eyes widened and only two words came to mind.

"Oh, shit!" Ron screamed as he saw the large man, with zombie woman on back, charge through the thick glass door. A sick thud emitted from underneath the fallen pedestrian, as the woman continued to chew away on the side of his neck. With the man knocked out and soon to be dead, the woman's eyes slowly raised up to look at the somewhat shocked young clerk. She bit down hard on the man, whose body was only capable of releasing a spastic reaction from his arms down to his legs. All the years of watching horror movies hadn't prepared Ron for this, as he seemed almost helpless to do anything except watch.

He needed something to snap him back into reality, and it worked when the woman was done having her snack. Ron saw the ghostly pale blue eyes of the woman fix on him, snapping him out of this sadistic trance. The woman snarled at him as Ron made another lunge towards the break room, with the apparently undead woman quickly following him. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning up against it so she couldn't break in. But nothing had prevented her from shooting her fist through the aged brown colored wood and grabbing the front of Ron's shirt. He panicked but regained his composure after he saw what could be his answer right in front of his eyes, no more than a few feet away from him. The warped sense of humor started to kick in after the realization that he just might live through this, causing him to grab her wrist and release her from his grip. Doing a spin away from the door, he grabbed it as soon as she burst through the door.

"Say hello to my little friend!" Ron exclaimed in all of his Pacino glory and blasted the woman in the face with the fire extinguisher that he had grabbed. It seemed to stun the woman long enough for him to stop firing. With a quick swing to his side, he lashed out at the woman, leveling her in the side of the face with the side of his new weapon. The woman stumbled backwards out the door, eventually tripping backwards over the stack of newspapers that Ron almost broke his neck on earlier. He dropped the extinguisher and turned around, pushing the back door open and running out of the store.

The harsh glare from the sun caused him to stop and shield his eyes at first, but he soon got over it when he heard the rumbling from behind him in the store. Ron sprinted around to the front of the store, thanking whomever was watching over him that there were no more of these zombies in sight as he dug his car keys out of his pocket. He circled around to the driver side of the old blue Mustang hatchback, scraping some paint off as his first two attempts to put the key in the hole failed. Finally he stuck it in and twisted, seeing the lock pop up. He flicked the door handle up and quickly got in, hitting his head on the top as he got in.

"Oww, mother, goddamn zombie bitch!" Ron cursed the undead girl for his slight headache now, shutting the door and locking it. He stuck the key into the ignition as he saw the woman come from behind the store out of the corner of his eye. He started the car...and it died.

"No! Not now, you old piece of shit! Start! I am not fucking dying in a parking lot!" He shouted and screamed as his next attempt to start the car also failed. The fifteen year old vehicle was supposed to last at least two more months before it was supposed to die. Ron banged on the steering wheel with his hands, accidentally hitting the horn. It had definitely been a mistake, as now not only did the woman turn her attention towards him, but he saw a whole bunch of people running at him out of his rear view mirror. Ron turned the ignition once more, and finally the car started. He didn't waste any time as it could have went out any moment, and he burned out the tires by backing up faster than he probably should have on any other occasion. Ron turned the wheel violently, trying to position himself facing towards the exit. It didn't work, but he threw the gear in drive and slowly turned a little more to the left, speeding off and leaving those undead bastards in the dust.

Seeing no cars on the road and not really caring at the same time, Ron shot out of the driveway and made a wide left, driving down Stanley Rd. and heading back towards his house. The roads were empty on this Saturday morning, but they were never completely empty like this. Something was indeed very wrong in the town of Hyde Park, maybe even the country, Ron had thought. This sounded way too much like a bad movie to be true, but he definitely wasn't dreaming, he was damn sure of that. He was grateful that his parents were out on vacation, at least they were safe. Or were they? Ron decided not to think about it as turned onto the side street. It was something that would have driven him insane if he stopped to analyze the whole situation. 

Ron jammed on his break when someone ran out in front of the car. He jumped in his seat, almost hitting his head on the roof of the car again, and was ready to run over whoever or whatever it was. It was a neighbor of his, a young woman named Patty who lived about seven or eight houses away. She ran over to his side door, pulling on the handle and hitting the windows with her palms, much like the thing that showed up at his job.

"Open the door, he's trying to kill me!" Patty said, with a pleading look in her eyes.

"Are you dead?" Ron asked in return, probably one of the stupidest questions he'd asked in his entire life. He just shook his head before she could answer, reaching over and quickly pulling on the door handle from the inside.

As the twenty-something year old woman got into the car, Ron watched as a man ran out the door of her house. It was her husband Will, or at least it used to be. The snarling and the blood on the front of his shirt was all it took for Ron to floor it as soon as she got in. Will ran down the street after them, but was quickly out of their range as Ron made a sharp turn to lead them back to the main roads. In the seat next to him, Patty was silently sobbing, with tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her faded black t-shirt. Ron immediately noticed how short those shorts were exactly, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"What is going on here?" Patty asked in between sobs. She ran the back of her hand across her eyes, trying to compose herself a little bit.

"I don't know, I was at work and some crazy bitch attacked a costumer. You know, this may sound fucked up, but I think these people are turning into zombies." Ron said as he turned onto Stanley once more, wondering what kind of reaction he would get. 

Patty shook her head slowly, looking at Ron. "That's impossible. Zombies don't exist, they're fiction."

"Yeah, well if you have some explanation as to why both of us have been assaulted in the past ten minutes, by two totally different groups of people, who have a penchant for eating other people, then let's hear it!" Ron yelled, probably a little bit louder than he should have. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."  
  
"No, you're right...I just didn't want to believe it..." Patty muttered as the words got less and less audible as the sentence went on.

She looked out the window, seeing a few people chasing another person, and finally catching up to them. Patty let out another gasp, causing Ron to turn his head as well. They were just about to tear into the poor woman's flesh, and an attempt to help her would have been too late. Ron just sped up as Patty turned her head to look at him. He noticed it out of the corner of his eye but didn't turn to meet her glance, he just sped up the car to reach about fifty-five, as fast as his car could go without dying out again. He didn't know where they were going, but the one thing he was certain of was that they needed to get the hell away from these things. Ron just hoped that there were other people still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Sorry for delay, was a hectic few weeks. I'll try and start updating on a weekly basis from now on. Thank you for the reviews I've gotten so far. Hope you all like this new chapter. Later.**

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**6:05 A.M.**  
  
"Yo bitch! You in my seat!"  
  
The words rang out through the small holding cell, snapping young Victor Hendricks out of his unconscious state. His vision was blurred, his head was pounding, but he had remembered all the events of last night. The drinking, the graffiti, and the eventual arrest that followed. Victor was a senior in high school, and there was exactly one month left until graduation day, which meant the freedom to escape this town. But right now, that freedom was in serious jeopardy, as was his posterior at this particular moment. That startling sentence had gone straight through his ears and stirred him from his position on the dingy brown bench.  
  
"Huh?" Victor asked wearily. Giving his eyes a chance to refocus, he saw the figure of a rather large, muscular Hispanic guy. It took Victor a few moments to recognize the man to be only a few years older than he was. The expression on Victor's face went from startled, to somewhat annoyed. Victor lowered his head again, as the Spanish guy just let out a series of short chuckles.  
  
"How's your head feeling'?" The Spanish guy asked, shifting his footing a little bit. He was not some dangerous gang member or some degenerate junkie. He was Marcos Tavares, a local that graduated from Victor's high school about five years ago. They had known each other through Victor's brother Phil, who lived way down in Georgia now with a girl he met from college. Being that it was so cheap down there compared to New York, Phil and his fiancée already owned their own one-story, two-bedroom home for just over a hundred grand. Right now though, Victor was in New York, and in jail, and somewhat pissed off.  
  
Very slowly, he tried to sit up, and was eventually helped out by Hyde Park's newest patrol man. Victor smirked as Marcos helped him up, and then would kneel down in front of his face. A burp emitted out of Victor's mouth, causing Marcos to turn his head in some disgust, but he couldn't help himself but laugh.  
  
"Damn, kid," Marcos uttered between laughs, "how much did you drink last night?"  
  
"Shit if I know." Victor said as he winced, squinting his eyes and shielding with his hand to block out the light. It was dim, but it was enough to add to that vicious hangover. "What time is it?"  
  
"It's about five after six," Marcos remarked after taking a look at his black Nokia, "you're in my cousin Ray's class right?"  
  
Ray Hernandez, star running back of the Hyde Park Panthers, one of the most popular guys with the ladies...Victor couldn't stand him.  
  
"Yeah," Victor responded with a nod, "why you ask?"  
  
"You really must have hit that tap last night bitch." Marcos remarked, laughing and slapping Victor on the shoulder with that huge, bulky ham hock that he called a hand. "You got a field trip in like half an hour don't you?"  
  
"Oh shit!" Victor suddenly jerked forward, perhaps too fast as his he now felt like he was going to throw up. The combination of thinking that his parents were going to kill him and missing the best part of senior year as pertaining to school, had him suddenly keeled over in the far corner. Another guy, who smelled like he lived in a dumpster was sitting right next to him, and just coming back around into consciousness himself. His disgustingly filthy hand came up, patting the damp, sweaty mass of graying black hair, beady eyes holding a stare on Victor's form as Marcos came over to help him up.  
  
"If he throws up on me, I can sue!" The still inebriated man said, raising his index finger up in the air. After a brief maniacal laugh, he just shut up again, his head lolling to the side and eyes blinking slowly, Marcos just smirked, helping up Victor, who hadn't thrown up, but did go into a series of slow dry heaves.  
  
"Alright, take it easy bro. I'll go drive you home, you get changed, I'll drive you back to the school." Marcos explained slowly for the young nauseous man. As Victor sat back down on the bench, Marcos reached into the breast pocket of his uniform, taking out a small, dark blue colored cell phone. "Look, I'll even call Ray to let them know that you're going to be like five minutes late, you know just in case?"  
  
"Thanks dude." Muttered Victor, who had just about sat long enough. Slowly getting up, he made his way over towards the bars to the holding cell. His hands reached up grabbing them, the front of his face wedging into a pair of bars so that his button nose would stick out just slightly. Calling Ray meant that the whole class, and his teachers, would know that Victor had gotten locked up for the night. It was an added headache to be sure, but it was still a nice gesture by Marcos. Good thing that him and his brother were tight, or else there was good chance that he would not be going to Coaster Nation. And it was also a good thing that he would be getting away from the condescending glare of Officer Brandt, who was just finishing up covering a night shift. If all the teenagers and other young party animals joined together to vote for the one cop that they despised the most, Brandt would most likely take it by a landslide.

The light jingling of keys could be heard off to the right of Victor now, as Marcos was opening the cell door. Victor took a quick side step and walked out of his one night residence, a loud sigh of relief passing through his lips. The very thought of just being out of the cell was liberating, Victor would find out, his thoughts quickly interrupted by two very loud noises. The first one was the more welcome, with Marcos slamming the cell door shut once more. In a way, it signified the end of a hellacious night, and one experience that Victor would never want to go through again. The second sound followed quickly, and it was the sound of a gunshot ringing through the station.  
  
"What the fuck?" Marcos said as everyone around him jumped at the sound.

Victor's eyes, once blurred were now alert, even though the gunshot did nothing to remedy his headache. Brandt moved around the desk as quick as his two hundred and forty pound frame would allow him, with another officer sprinting towards the door to the main office. Unclasping the button on his holster as he moved, the middle-aged man waited for Brandt to accompany him. Brandt got his gun out, holding it up in both hands, his forearms leaning against the wall to be ready to fire at anything that moved inside. With a scowl, Brandt gave a head nod to Marcos. Marcos would just smirk, shaking his head from side to side. But nevertheless, he obeyed the command from the senior officer, moving in a jog over to the door, his head turning to look over his shoulder at Victor.

"Just wait here for a few seconds," Marcos shouted once he reached the door, "Stillman's gun just probably went off again."

Victor nodded his head, turning around to his holding cell once more as he heard the door opening and the officers scurrying off to the main room. The bum in there was sleeping against the wall again, and it was a nice reminder of what Victor's life just might be like if he didn't decided to enroll in community college. No stay in school video could touch the real experience of the helplessness of being locked up in a small room. They didn't show the real thing, the downright terrible mixture of urine and stale sweat that bellowed out of these cells.

A loud crashing sound from the next room got Victor's attention. The oak doors were strong, almost soundproof, so the sounds coming from the next room must have reached the peak of the decibel level. He had been told to stay put, and Marcos demanded the respect that he would give him. But the muffled screams that would follow, adding in with additional gunshots from the room in question could not be ignored. Turning slightly on his heels, the first few footsteps were soft, but his pace quickened once he was within a mere ten feet of the door. Putting his ear to the door, the sounds outside were getting louder, three more gunshots could be heard ringing out, followed by a several series of screams and obscenities. He had heard someone barking orders on the other side of the door, but the sound that jolted him was the heavy banging against the door he was leaning against.

The banging continued once more as Victor jumped back, almost tripping over his own feet. Before he could react to anything else, the door flew open from the other side. Victor backed up another few feet as his eyes went wide once again. An Asian looking woman was running towards him frantically, hands waving around in the air and a large stain on her lime green blouse. The stain was a dark color, but by the drops of red dotting her arms and legs, the wheels in Victor's head were repeating the word, "blood". The woman dropped her arms and almost knocked Victor over when she ran into him. The other two people who had slipped through the doors were Brandt and another unrecognizable cop. They slammed the door shut before Victor could get a good look at just what was going on, but with the blood one the woman who was now clinging to him, he could only guess that it was bad.

"Benzinger, pull my cruiser around!" Brandt exclaimed, tossing the keys over at the obviously shaken cop. He dropped the keys, but quickly picked them up, sprinting towards the back door. Brandt then turned his attention towards Victor and the woman. "You two, get something to barricade this door!"  
  
Victor was already in mid sprint when Brandt finished his sentence, with the woman following behind him at half-speed. Victor didn't know where he was going, but he needed to find something big enough. Would he be able to lift it though, was another question running through his mind. There wasn't any time to think about these things though, as the tone in Brandt's voice and this trashy looking woman disposition were genuine enough to warrant an emergency. Victor stopped in his tracks, the woman bumping into him when he did, like a scene out of a bad comedy. One of the offices were open, and his eyes spotted a wooden desk with a computer and some picture frames on it. He moved quickly, as the sounds of Brandt cursing at the top of his lungs was enough motivation to shove all the papers and excess junk off of the floor, while the woman just stood at the door. She was content to just shift her gaze from Victor to Brandt, and back again while her entire body was shaking.

"Hey, give me a hand!" Victor shouted, picking up the computer monitor and carefully placing it onto a file cabinet. Crisis or not, it was still an expensive machine, and when this was all over, he didn't want to have to pay for things with money that he didn't have. Victor didn't know what the hell was going on though, he couldn't even come up with a guess. Maybe a robbery, but who would be stupid or ballsy enough to pull off this kind of job. Maybe there were twenty of them, with guns. The thoughts were brewing in Victor's head as the woman finally decided to join him in the room. She moved around to the back of the desk, while Victor started to pull from the front. Once they were a few more pushes away from the door, Victor ordered her to turn the desk around so it would fit. It was heavy to be sure, and it took a good minute for them to complete the full turn. 

"What the fuck is taking so long?!" Brandt bellowed from his position.

"Hold on a few more seconds, this shit is heavy!" Victor just shouted back as they were finally getting the desk out the doorway. Another quick turn around the corner and they were only twenty yards away from the door. Victor moved around to the side closest to the exit, pushing with all his might as the woman had seemingly given up on the task at hand. "Get ready to move!"

As Victor slowly closed in on the target, Brandt sidestepped and moved to help Victor push. On the outside, the door was still vibrating heavily from the other side, as screams could still be heard, but the gunshots had altogether died out. One of the bronze hinges were bending now, and finally popped out of the top of the door. They got the desk in front just in time, as the door was now positioned at an odd diagonal angle. The ten inches of space that was available were enough for Victor's eyes to finally see what was going on. The large main room looked more like a war zone now, bodies strewn across the floor, and even one positioned sitting inside of a tall glass casing. There were people in raggedy clothing moving around the room at quick paces, as Victor watched on for a few brief seconds of horror. There were at least five or six of them on their knees, digging with their hands and their teeth. They were digging into another person, a thirty-something year old officer, just ripping off his shirt and sinking their teeth into his flesh. The man's eyes caught Victor's, as if they were pleading for him to help.

"C'mon, let's go!"

If Brandt hadn't yelled into Victor's ears, he might have not been able to snap out of it. Victor turned his head, moving quickly and following Brandt and the Asian woman. Brandt was in the lead, turning the corner away from the exit for a few moments to go into another room. Before Victor and the woman could proceed inside, Brandt came out with a pump action shotgun, and two Glock 37's. Victor watched with some awe as the gun was placed in his hand. He had always been a fan of these cop type movies, and always wondered what it would be like to have a gun in his hand. Despite these dreams, he would be able to get over it and follow the shotgun wielding officer to the backdoor.

The timing couldn't have been any better. As soon as Brandt opened the door, Benzinger was just pulling up in front. Brandt ran out, looking from side to side as he opened the back door to the white and blue issued car.

"Get in!" Brandt ordered, and Victor and the woman would be more than happy to oblige. 

The woman sprinted towards the door, sliding into the back of the vehicle while Victor followed suit. He looked down to the driveway, seeing that there was another person running towards them. His eyes squinted, and suddenly went wide as he saw the figure of Marcos running towards them at full speed, even though there was nobody behind him. Victor was about to call out, but Brandt just shoved him with all of his strength, and Victor would fall into the car, head knocking into the Spanish woman's. Marcos caught up with them finally, sliding to a halt as Brandt motioned for him to get in the backseat. Brandt slammed the door and within a few seconds, he got into the passenger's seat and the car was speeding down the driveway.

Marcos was breathing heavily, as was Victor and practically everyone else in the car, with the exception of Brandt. Victor still didn't know what was going on, but was also afraid to ask. The Spanish woman next to him started crying, talking to herself in her native dialect. For the moment though, Victor's eyes fell onto the sweating Marcos, who turned his head at Victor finally. His hand rested on Victor's shoulder hard, struggling to get the words out.

"You OK man?" Marcos asked between breaths.

"Yeah, what the hell's going on?" Victor asked, his eyes looking down towards Marcos' left arm. There was a small wound in his bicep, but it was enough to cause a decent amount of blood to cover his forearm in streaks of dark red. Marcos shook his head frantically, wincing while holding his arm.

"I don't know...I don't know. People just went crazy, they started killing and eating everyone in the precinct. One of them bit me man, the son of a bitch fucking bitch me!" Marcos shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Calm down Tavares, we're safe!" Brandt remarked over his shoulder. Victor's mind started racing though once again, as were all of their minds. What exactly was going on? It sounded too unreal to be true...people eating people? It didn't make sense. Victor's gaze strayed from Marcos' arm to the windows, were the outside world was no better. There were people chasing each other on the streets, with a few cars speeding by at around seventy to eighty miles an hour. Victor watched as an older looking Jeep swerved to avoid a crowd of people, jumping the sidewalk and crashing into the front of a liquor store. Another swarm of people were immediately rushing over to the accident site, but not to help the poor driver. Instead, Victor turned his head before he could watch them drag the screaming man out of the car, starting to pick him apart just as they did that one officer in the station. Victor was just hoping that his parents were alright, that everyone he knew was safe. Maybe they were still at home, or maybe they were lucky enough to get to safety with just a small bite mark. Right now though, Victor wasn't sure if he would see any of his loved ones ever again. But he wasn't alone in that feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

**6:15 A.M.**  
  
Emily Perry was hurrying up the half-mile long road that led to the back entrance of her school. She had never been late to school, and would be damned if she was going to be late for the field trip. It was probably the only reason why she had chose to go with the regular Physics class instead of the AP class. She was smart enough to get in, but the child in her said that a cheap trip to the amusement park to study the physics involved with roller coasters would be more fun than the aeronautics museum.  
  
She would have to slow her gait every once in a while and turn her head to make sure that Steve Bannister was still close. Steve was the heaviest kid in the class, perhaps the entire graduating class. They've been friends since the beginning of junior high school, and to say that they weren't a part of the in crowd would be accurate. Neither of them possessed any of the three things that were required to be considered 'cool'. They weren't too athletic, they didn't have a car and neither of them were considered desirable by the opposite sex it seemed. The fact that Steve was often referred to as "Bowling Ball" Bannister didn't really help matters, a clever name devised by David Torrance, who was considered the class asshole by many of those on the outside fringe of popularity. The name stuck mainly because Steve was kind of short.

"Jesus Christ Steve, we're going to be late. Hurry your fat ass up." Emily replied with a smirk, to show that she was joking.

"You know, I take offense to that. I actually lost four pounds in the past two weeks." Steve said in between breaths, sucking in his chest and chuckling a bit. Losing four pounds might bring him down to the two hundred and fifty mark, so he still had a ways to go.

Emily would smile, shaking her head as she turned back around, with Steve walking beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a guy running on the other side of the street, behind the chain link fence and in the park. He was running towards the north entrance away from them, but she did notice that there was a rather large, dark stain on the back of his shirt. She didn't think anything of it really, people can wear whatever they want.

"So what rides are we going to hit first?" Emily asked, averting her attention back to her sidekick.

"Hmm...I think I'm going to have to go for the hot dog stand." Steve nodded as if he actually thought about the question. It would just bring Emily to shake her head slowly again, her fingertips dragging along the fence to her left.

"Didn't you eat breakfast?" Emily asked.

"Yes, but I woke up late so I forgot to pack a snack." Steve replied, shifting his backpack to his right shoulder. It dragged his t-shirt up his stomach a little bit, exposing the skin that overlapped the top of his blue jeans. "Besides, their hot dogs aren't too bad. And with all that walking around, I'm going to need some food in my system to keep me going."

"The only thing that those hot dogs are going to make you do are take extra trips to the bathroom, which means I wind up sitting around and waiting for you while those bastards go on the rides first." Emily nodded slowly as she came to a halt. Her hand shot out and lightly grasped Steve on the shoulder, causing him to jump somewhat in surprise. Straight ahead of them, it looked like there were four people running towards them. To be more accurate, it seemed as if one of them were being chased by the other three. Emily squinted her eyes a bit, but Steve's better vision allowed him to see more clearly.

"Hey, isn't that Alex?" Steve asked, raising his hand and pointing in the direction of the oncoming pedestrians. They were still about seventy yards away, but Emily's nod would confirm his question. She didn't really know, so she just went with it.

"Yeah...yeah I think that is Alex."

"Man, he must have done something to piss those people off." Steve smiled as they just continued to look straight ahead. Alex was probably one of the wealthier kids in their grade, and if you didn't know it, he'd be sure to tell you. Alex was also one of the most obnoxious, often saying things that would get anyone else beaten down. But, because of his money and the fact that both his parents were lawyers, no one dared to touch him. He also had the protection of a few of the more popular football players.

Before Emily could answer, the scene from about fifty feet away would start to unfold. In a matter of five seconds that seemed to last an eternity, one of the people chasing Alex managed to bring him down to the concrete sidewalk, jumping on his back and tearing into his left shoulder blade with his teeth. The two others huddled around the now screaming Alex, using their hands and their teeth as well to take a chunk out of his neck, spraying blood across the gray cement. The two seventeen year olds just continued to watch on in horror, as the screams eventually died down into inaudible sobs. In a matter of moments, Alex was dead, with chunks of flesh being taken from his neck and most of his right arm and sternum. The stunned silence was finally broken when the people who had killed poor Alex had snapped their attention towards the pair of teenagers down the road.

"Holy shit! What the fuck?!" Steve exclaimed, finally snapping Emily out of her state of shock. The tears would soon flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, as Steve's meaty hand would slap her shoulder hard. "Let's go !"  
  
Steve practically had to turn Emily around as the people would start to make a dash for them. They both started running back down the long street towards the main road, but the group was steadily gaining on them. Emily shot out ahead of Steve, and was slowly pulling away as they continued to run, now maybe no less than fifteen seconds away from reaching the main road. Emily turned her head and extended her hand towards Steve, who was starting to breath heavily once again. As she turned, she saw that the three were right on Steve's heels. She had no choice but to make a desperate attempt to cry out.

"Steve, no!" Emily shouted through the steady stream of tears, but it was too late. She stopped about twenty feet away, as one of them jumped on Steve's back, but came down with his backpack. The strap got stuck under his arm, which caused him to get pulled backwards and hit the ground with a thud. One of them jumped on him, but Steve managed to fight him off and push him to the ground. Steve sat up, but was grabbed around the neck and pulled back down. He let out a blood curdling scream now, as Emily shrunk down to the floor, crouching and holding her head in her hands, sobbing as she heard her best friend's ultimate demise. She would eventually look through the cracks of her fingers, seeing the three tear into his stomach greedily. With her knees and legs shaking, Emily got back up to her feet and turned around, taking off in a sprint before she was next on the menu. Her instincts took over and she ran, faster than she had ever run before. She didn't know if they were running after her or not, and she didn't care. Emily just wanted to get home, get her family and get to the police. They'd know what to do, she thought.

Emily got to the corner of the street, and not hearing any footsteps behind her, she finally decided to turn around and see if she was being chased. They were still chomping away on the carcass of her deceased friend. One of them would finally get up and turn his attention to her, a snarl on his unusually pale face and a crazed look in his blood shot eyes. Emily's brain quickly assessed the situation, scanning through the list of rational explanations for a reasonable explanation. With the guy slowly advancing at first, she quickly settled on the first thing she could think of. An epidemic!

"You're not going to eat me!" She cried in a sort of maniacal defiance, perhaps due to the traumatic situation she had just encountered. Quickly turning on her heels, she took off in another run across the street. There was no time to think about the next course of action though, as all that could be heard from her left was a loud screeching, then everything went black. Her body was thrust up into the air in an instant, then came crashing down on the windshield of the light blue Mustang that had viciously taken her life away. The car swerved once more as Emily's body fell off to the left, her arm being plowed over by the back wheel of the vehicle that had suddenly jumped the sidewalk. The glass from the pet shop window had absolutely shattered as the car crashed into the empty display cage where the dogs were usually kept. Both of the passengers were knocked unconscious, the woman smacking her head violently against the dashboard. The car was covered in pieces of the black metallic cage, as a few of the animals who had gotten loose were now running over the car's smoking hood and out of the store. The streets of Hyde Park were quiet now once again, at least for the next five minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

**6:20 A.M.**  
  
"This early morning shit has got to go." Kevin Connell said amidst several yawns. "I think I still have some buzz left over from last night."  
  
"Shouldn't have drank so much, at least you didn't get taken to jail." Eddie Nailon remarked with a smirk, thinking about his unfortunate friend Victor. Even though a few of them were going on the early morning field trip the next day, there was no breaking the traditional Friday night keg party. Whether it be in the woods, behind the school or in someone else's house, it didn't really matter to them. The only thing they did know was that it was going to happen, except for some cases when it was pouring out. Sometimes the cops would come and break it up, and last night happened to be one of those nights.  
  
Kevin laughed at the comment, taking his faded black New York Yankees cap off to scratch the back of his head, ruffling up his thick brown hair so that it stood out some in the back. Placing the cap back on, his weary eyes would take another look around the room, getting a glimpse of all the faces that would be accompanying them on the trip.  
  
"So is Vic the only one missing?" A voice off to the right of the boys chimed in, a loud cackling sound following the question. David Torrance, regarded as the voice of the group, had just arrived in the gymnasium, wearing the same clothes that he had on last night. At least he had put on some cologne.  
  
"Yeah, Greg's taking a piss and God only knows if Vic's gonna even make it." Eddie replied after slapping hands with David, who would then move his hand up to cover a yawn. This, of course, had a rippled effect, and also caused Kevin and to yawn, while Eddie turned away to hide his. David laughed a little bit again, taking some time to check out the girls who would be joining them on this trip.  
  
All together, there were forty-one seniors from two classes who would be going, plus three of the teachers. One of the physics classes couldn't even go on the trip, due to poor overall grades and just generally being assholes. The three teachers were Mr. White, the school's only physics teacher and a pretty decent guy. A majority of the students seemed to think he was alright, so he might have been one of the few teachers in the school who were hardly ever given a hard time. He rarely gave homework, and most of his classes were experiments that he often demonstrated first, so they were also somewhat tolerable.  
  
The other science teacher on the trip was Ms. Grayson, a young teacher in her late twenties who was probably one of the prettiest teachers at the school. She was a straight arrow though it seemed, and even though she might have been hot, her chemistry classes were just simply boring. The only time it was any fun would be if one of the students did something stupid. There was one occasion were a note was intercepted from Greg who had gotten it from David. She asked for Greg to read the note out loud in front of the class, which caused one of the more memorable lines in James J. Merrill High School history. When Greg stood up, trying to hold in his own laughter and read the words, "I want to fuck Ms. Grayson," the entire class lost it for a good five minutes straight. Ms. Grayson knew the hand writing was David's though, so Greg didn't get into trouble, and neither did David really. So ever since then, David tried to avoid eye contact with the young teacher.  
  
And then of course, there was the other teacher, Mrs. Randleman. Mrs. Randleman was the exact opposite of Mr. White, for the fact that ninety percent of the students hated her. She was a mean woman in her early sixties, with this awful black dye job set against mostly pale skin. She was one of the school's two vice principals, and had given out more detention that probably anyone on the planet. It was not uncommon for her to give detention to more than twenty people at once if she felt necessary, even for a small thing such as a food fight at lunch. Kevin and Victor had once gotten detention for two weeks after they had a mock fight in the middle of the lunch line. Most of the people around them knew they were just kidding around, because the two of them had gotten into many joking skirmishes in the past. But when Wretched Randleman had saw them, she grabbed Kevin by his shirt collar and screamed into his ear. It didn't help matters that Victor called her a bitch, so they were forced to spend the next two weeks in the library for one hour after school.  
  
"Man, why the fuck does this bitch have to come with us? To make sure that we're not having too much fun or something?" David asked, motioning towards the elderly woman who was sitting on a blue plastic chair near the door to the locker rooms. Just then, Gregory Yang emerged from the bathroom, lightly slapping David on the back of his neck.  
  
"Where's Vic?" Greg asked, leaning up against the side of the bleachers.  
  
"Down at fourth precinct still probably. Might have been a good idea for him to not write his own name in graffiti on that wall last night." Eddie nodded his head slightly, his fingers rolling a slender cigarette back and forth until he finally perched it on top of his right ear.  
  
"I can't believe that, he wrote 'Victor' on the wall?" Greg chuckled, asking the question because he really didn't know. Greg left the earliest, probably because he didn't drink too much and he was smart enough to know that he would have to wake up early the next morning.  
  
"No, he didn't write 'Victor'. He wrote, 'Victor Hendricks was here bitch!' on the side of that blue and white garage." Eddie replied, drawing a laugh out of the group, including a slightly feminine laugh off to the right. They turned their heads to see that Jenn Sciotta was approaching them, which was somewhat of a surprise. Jenn and Eddie had hooked up on a few occasions during the weekends, but didn't really talk that much during school hours. Jenn was one of the more popular girls in the school, and the group of boys were somewhere on the fringes. Everyone knew them, most people liked them, but they weren't totally there in the minds of senior clique. Mainly because none of them played team sports, even though Eddie and Victor were decent athletes.  
  
"Hey guys. Surprised to see you all made it after last night." She would shoot a wink towards Eddie, who just raised an eyebrow as his eyes followed to see that two more of Jenn's friends were coming over. Kristen Mazlowski and Sandra DeCarro, two of the bitchier girls in the senior class. Jenn, while popular, was pretty nice but these two were just pains in the ass. David would look away, mouthing the word 'bitches' to Greg, who would just shake his head upon their arrival.  
  
"So where's Victor?" Sandra would reply with a sneer, knowing full well what happened. Word of mouth had no doubt spread from Ray or someone else who was there. I mean, there were about ten or fifteen witnesses.  
  
"Isn't it too early for you to be a bitch?" Greg just asked flat out, shrugging his shoulders a bit. He wasn't known for his tact really.  
  
Kristen's jaw dropped but the rest of the guys just laughed. Sandra didn't think it was so funny though, and looked as if she were just about to knock Greg out when Mr. White spoke up.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?!" He shouted across the gym, making sure to get everyone's attention. When they turned around, they would see that a police officer was standing next to him. Some of the kids recognized him as Officer Brandt, a royal pain in the ass that seemingly got off on breaking their balls once a weekend. "I'm going to have to speak with Officer Brandt here in private for a few moments. Don't leave the gym, we're still waiting on six students I believe. We'll wait fifteen more minutes, and if they don't show, well that's their problem. Now if you'll excuse me."  
  
David would throw some mock applause as Mr. White left the room with Brandt, drawing some scattered laughter. When he turned around though, the shouting match between Sandra and Kristen versus Kevin and Greg would begin once more, until it was interrupted yet again by a shout from across the gymnasium.

"Hey Eddie! I heard your boy Victor is taking it up the ass down at the precinct!" The shout came from Ray Hernandez, who was standing with the other football players in the class. One of them gave Ray a high five, who couldn't help but be amused by his own joke.

"Kind of like the time at the Homecoming assembly when I gave it up the ass to your mother in the women's locker room?" Eddie retorted, not even bothering to look up at Ray as he heard the laughter from his own friends, including a chuckle from Jenn. Ray on the other hand, didn't find it so amusing, as he looked as if he wanted to go over there and beat the shit out of Eddie. He didn't dare touch him though, because the principal told him that if he got into one more fight on school property, it would mean expulsion. Eddie knew that, as did mostly everyone who were in an ear shot of gossip.

"Keep talking Eddie, keep fucking talking." Ray said, nodding his head as an arm shot out to grab him on the wrist. Ray jerked back some, then looked over to see that it was Mrs. Randleman. A scowl twisted onto her face as she spoke.

"Did you just use profanity Mr. Hernandez?! How would you and your little gutter mouth like to spend a few days in detention?"

Ray's eyes widened as he shook his head from side to side quickly. "I'm sorry Mrs. Randleman, it won't happen again. It was just a small mistake, I mean, everyone makes mistakes right?"

Somehow, that statement had worked, as Mrs. Randleman loosened her grip on the young man and turned away. Perhaps she was a more forgiving person in the early morning, or maybe what young Ray had said made a little bit of sense to here. Still, she would walk back to her seat against the wall, when suddenly, something caught her attention from the corner of her right eye. If there was one other thing in the world she couldn't tolerate, it was lateness, even if this person was only three minutes late.

"Excuse me young man!" Her hands balled up into fists and jammed against her sides as the young man seemed to stop walking after taking five steps into the doorway. Most of the kids attention was caught once more, but the former Alex Lassiter was too far away for them to see the blood all over his neck and his black t-shirt. Mrs. Randleman took a few steps towards him, then her eyes widened a bit as she would now scurry faster to his side. She had finally seen the gaping neck wound and the cartilage that was sticking out from the side, and when she finally reached him, her hand fell on his shoulder. His head was hanging low so that she couldn't see his face.

"Oh my lord, what happened Alex?" Randleman had inquired, then looked away the very moment when Alex started to raise his head. "Someone call an ambulance! Get that police officer back in here!"

Alex's face was an unhealthy shade of light green, his pupils dilated severely and blood stains all over his neck and the bottom of his jaw. If Mrs. Randleman had turned around in time, she would have seen his face and maybe had a chance to back up a little bit, thinking that maybe he had some kind of disease. But it would soon be too late for her, just like it was too late for many of the other kids, as a group of fifteen of Alex's undead brethren were running at full speed up the ramp that led to the back of the gym. The commotion was overheard by some, including the group of four boys and three girls who were standing near the far wall.

"The fuck is that?" Kevin asked, as his head suddenly jerked around, hearing the final screams of old Wretched Randleman.


End file.
